Missing!
by Badge177
Summary: Carrot is abducted and the kidnappers are not nice people. Vimes is beside himself. How much is he willing to risk to get Carrot back? Rating for darkness and mild language.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** All Discworld characters belong to Terry Pratchett. I own nothing. I'm just inspired to write stuff Mr. Pratchett isn't likely to. No disrespect is intended.

**Missing!**

**Chapter 1**

Carrot was on his lunch break. He never wandered far from the Watch House and was sitting in a handy café. He finished eating and then pushed away his empty plate, picking up his mug of coffee.

The waiter came over. "Another helping, captain?" he asked cheerfully, wiping his hands on his apron.

"No, thank you, Mr. Gimlet," said Carrot. "That was delicious, but I must be getting back to the Watch House soon. I'll just finish my coffee and then I'll be off."

"Right you are. But if you need anything else, just give me a shout."

"I'll do that, Mr. Gimlet. Thank you."

Carrot leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, enjoying a few more minutes before going back on duty.

On the far side of the room, an unknown figure was watching him intently. He reached for his tankard with a massive hand, eyeing Carrot as he drank. He held the tankard to his lips and whispered out of the corner of his mouth to the man sat next to him. "'Ere, Watts... is that him?"

"Yeah, that's him," the one called Watts replied. "And stop gawping at him before he notices us." Watts was weasel-like, his dark, lank hair hung around his face and he had a matchstick hanging from his mouth. He was watching a small beetle scurry across the table.

"He's a big bugger, ain't he?" The larger man said. "You never told me he was big."

Watts reached out and grabbed the beetle; he held it tightly in his hand. "He's no bigger than you are, Sharkey," he said. "If you don't want the job, just say so, I can always get someone else to do it." He picked up the beetle between his thumb and index finger, watching as it struggled to free itself. "I didn't think he'd be a problem for you."

Sharkey sniffed. "I didn't say he'd be a problem," he said irritably. "I just said he was big, that's all." He took another slug of ale and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "How much did you say he'd be worth?" he said, keeping his voice low.

"At least $100,000..." Watts was pulling the legs off the beetle, "...maybe more."

Sharkey pulled a face. "That's a lot of money for one Watchman," he said doubtfully. "You think this other geezer will pay it?"

Watts crushed the beetle between his fingers, killing it. "Oh, he'll pay it all right," he said darkly. "I'll make sure of that..."

-o0o-

Commander Vimes sat in his office with a mug of cold coffee. He was staring at the mountains of paperwork on his desk. He sighed. If he didn't get around to it soon he wouldn't have a desk left to work on. He sometimes wished he shared half of Carrot's enthusiasm for dealing with it.

He got up and walked over to the window, taking his mug with him. The window was wide open. The air outside was warm; the sounds of the street drifted up from below. That's where he really wanted to be, out there in the streets. That's where the proper police work was done in his opinion, not in here stuck behind a desk. He took a mouthful of coffee and then wandered down the stairs. He looked around until he spotted Sergeant Colon.

"Fred?" he called out. "Any idea what time Carrot's due back from lunch?"

Colon glanced at the clock. "Well, he left about noon, sir. So he should be back any minute now."

Vimes nodded. "Right. Well, send him up as soon as he gets in, would you? I could do with a hand upstairs."

"Right you are, sir."

Vimes returned to his office and sat down. He could already hear Carrot's lecture about the paperwork as he picked up the first letter on the pile. _Oh well, _he thought. _Better make it look as though I've made a start..._

-o0o-

Carrot pushed back his chair and got up from the table. He left enough money to pay for his meal by the side of the plate, and then left the café. He was followed by the two men who left immediately afterwards. Once outside, Sharkey disappeared down a side alley, leaving Watts to follow Carrot.

"Er, excuse me, officer?" said Watts as he caught up with Carrot.

Carrot turned. "Hello, Mr..." He looked the man up and down. "Oh. I don't think we've met before, have we?"

"Er, no," said Watts. "But I was wondering if you could help me?"

"Yes, of course, what seems to be the problem?"

"It's this way," said Watts, gesturing in the general direction of the Shades. "Follow me..."

Carrot hesitated for only a second, before following, dutifully.

-o0o-

Vimes looked up from the latest complaint from the Thieves Guild and glanced at the clock. It was almost half past one and there was still no sign of Carrot. He frowned. It was unusual for Carrot to be late. He got up from his desk and returned downstairs. He wandered over to Colon, who was doing his best to look busy.

"Fred?" he said. "Did Carrot have any jobs on after lunch?"

"Not that I know of, sir. Why?"

Vimes shook his head. "I just wondered that's all. It's not like Carrot to be late."

"I shouldn't worry, sir. He wouldn't be late unless he had a good reason, and he's hardly likely to get lost!"

"Well, all the same, if he's not back by 2 o'clock send a clacks out asking him to return to the Watch House, would you?"

"Will do, sir."

-o0o-

"Er, how much further is it?" said Carrot, noticing they were going deeper into the Shades than Vimes would have liked him to go on his own.

"Not much further now..."

Watts was leading him down numerous back streets and alleys, deliberately keeping away from what passed for the main thoroughfare. Carrot looked around, convinced they were going around in circles. A quick glance at his watch told him he should've been back at the Yard almost half an hour ago.

"Can't you just tell me what the problem is?" he asked politely, as he followed Watts down another back street.

"It's easier just to show you, really. We're almost there now..."

They turned another corner, finally stopping in a narrow dead end. The buildings overhead seemed to close in, cutting out what little sunlight there was. Rats scavenged among the overflowing dustbins lining both walls. It looked like they hadn't been emptied in months. It smelled like it, too.

Carrot put a hand to his nose.

"You'll get used to it," said Watts. Adding mentally, _Where you're going, you'll need to_. He led Carrot to a doorway. "It's just through here," he said. He opened the door and stepped back. "After you, officer."

Carrot ducked under the low doorway and entered into almost complete darkness.

"What am I supposed to be lookin—" Carrot managed to get halfway through the sentence before something hard hit him on the back of the neck. He fell to the ground, heavily.

Watts stepped in and kicked the door closed behind him. He grinned. "Nice work, Sharkey."

Sharkey bent down and grabbed Carrot under the arms. "I told you he wouldn't be a problem," he said, dragging Carrot away from the door.

Watts looked pleased. "This is easier than I thought."

"Don't get cocky, Watts. This is only the beginning."

"Yeah, you're right," said Watts, looking down at Carrot's unconscious form. "This is when the fun _really_ starts..."

-o0o-


	2. Chapter 2

**Missing!**

**Chapter 2**

Sharkey hauled Carrot into the next room, where he dumped him unceremoniously on the floor. He walked over to the middle of the room and lifted a metal ring concealed in the floorboards. A hidden trapdoor opened up. A flight of stone steps led down into a cellar.

Watts remained in the other room, rummaging through the contents of a large wooden chest. It was filled with various weapons, most of them instantly recognizable; but there were other, more sinister looking devices too. It also contained a length of rope, several sets of handcuffs, and a box filled with strange glass vials. For now, he selected a thin dagger, two pairs of cuffs and a crossbow, and then kicked the chest closed again. He followed Sharkey into the other room.

Sharkey had already dragged Carrot's body down into the cellar unaided. Watts grinned. He'd made the right choice in employing Sharkey's help. He wasn't exactly the sharpest tool in the box, but he was strong, willing and didn't ask too many questions. Watts followed him into the cellar, closing the trapdoor behind him.

"Here," he said, handing the crossbow to Sharkey; it was already loaded and cocked. "Keep it aimed at him, but don't fire unless you have to." As an afterthought he added, "He's no use to us dead."

Sharkey took the crossbow wordlessly. He'd long ago gotten used to Watts speaking to him as if he was dim. Watts seemed to equate size with stupidity, which meant he thought Sharkey was about as bright as a penny candle.

"You'd better see he wears these, too," said Watts, handing him the cuffs.

There was a groan from the floor as Carrot came round. He rubbed the back of his head as he struggled to focus on the unfamiliar surroundings. "Where am I?" he said groggily.

"Just do as you're told and you won't get hurt," said Sharkey.

Carrot tried to focus on the source of the voice. "Who are you?" he said. "What do you want with me?"

Watts squatted in front of him, flaunting the thin dagger. "_You_, my friend, are our ticket to a better life."

"You know, assaulting a Watchman is a serious offence," said Carrot. "Commander Vimes says-"

"Oh, you don't need to tell us anything about Commander Vimes," Watts sneered. "We know all about him."

"Good!" said Carrot. "Then you'll know how much trouble you're in!"

Watts poked him in the chest. "No, _you're_ the one in trouble, sonny," he said nastily. "Leastways, you will be if your commander doesn't come up with the goods."

"Goods?"

Watts laughed, showing two rows of broken and uneven teeth. "Yeah, that's right. See, we reckon your commander will pay a tidy sum to get you back. In fact, we were lucky to stumble across you like we did, you've just made our job a whole lot easier."

"W-what do you mean?"

"I meant we didn't originally set out to get you; your commander was the one we were after. We reckoned his wife would have paid handsomely for _his_ safe return." Watts inhaled noisily through his teeth. "But you see, actually getting _hold_ of him was proving difficult. We've been watching him for weeks, and one thing we've learned is that he's not stupid." He grinned. "He's more streetwise than you are for one thing. I doubt he would've followed me into the Shades on his own like you just did."

Carrot grimaced. He knew he'd been foolish. If he ever got out of here alive Vimes would probably kill him himself...

"But we don't need him now," Watts continued with mock cheerfulness. "Because we've got _you_."

"And what makes you think Commander Vimes is going to pay to get _me_ back?" Carrot asked.

Watts leaned closer. "Well, that's where we struck _really_ lucky," he said. "'Cos we noticed you two spend quite a lot of time together, don't you?"

Carrot looked from Watts to Sharkey, worriedly. "That doesn't mean anything. We work together."

"I meant... after hours." Watts managed to say it suggestively.

Carrot remained silent.

Watts grinned. "Just as I thought..."

"Okay, that's enough talking," said Sharkey impatiently. He waved the crossbow at Carrot. "You. Get those clothes off, now."

"W-what?"

"You think we're stupid or something? We're not taking chances with a werewolf in the Watch. Now get those clothes off, now!" Sharkey's crossbow pointed dangerously at Carrot's chest.

Watts got up. "Better do as he says," he said, grinning. "His trigger finger gets a bit twitchy when he's upset."

"Okay..." said Carrot, eyeing the crossbow. "I'm doing it..."

Carrot got up and began to remove his clothes. He undressed slowly, keeping his eyes on Sharkey's weapon. He dropped the clothes into a pile in front of him and then stood back.

"I said everything!" said Sharkey, motioning with his crossbow to Carrot's drawers.

Watts sniggered. "Seems the lad's a bit shy, Sharkey."

"This is no time for modesty, boy. Take it all off!"

Carrot removed his drawers and stepped out of them. He added them to the pile with his foot. Then he stood back, trying to cover himself with his hands.

Watts bent down and gathered up the clothes. His eyes lingered on Carrot as he worked. Watts bundled the clothes into a cloth sack and then stood back.

"Are you sure you know what to do with those, Watts?" said Sharkey.

"Yeah, I've got everything I need to lead our werewolf friend a right old merry dance."

"Well, get to it, then! We've wasted enough time already!"

"I'm going, I'm going..." Watts backed up the stone steps clutching the cloth sack. He managed to steal one last look at Carrot before he closed the trapdoor. A moment later, Carrot heard him rummaging through the wooden chest upstairs. There was a faint 'clink' of glass before the lid slammed shut.

Sharkey returned his attention to Carrot. "Right, now turn around and put your hands behind you."

Carrot remained where he was. "Y-you're not going to leave me like this, are you?"

Sharkey considered him for a moment, and then said quietly, "Listen, boy. My colleague up there is _not_ a nice person; best you do as you're told and not upset him, eh? That way, no one will get hurt, and before you know it, we'll all be on our way home, hmm?"

Carrot glanced at the crossbow. He gave Sharkey's words some thought. A moment later, he turned around.

Sharkey clamped the cuffs on him. Carrot winced; the cuffs were small and they pinched as they locked into place.

Sharkey clamped a second, larger set around Carrot's ankles and then stood back. "Right, now go and sit quietly over there by the wall."

Carrot sat down on the hard, cold floor, still mindful of the fact that he was naked. He looked totally and utterly dejected, the full gravity of the situation he was in slowly creeping over him. He'd been downright stupid, and because of that stupidity, other Watchmen would soon be out looking for him, most likely endangering their own lives. Gods forbid, it might even be Vimes...

Carrot closed his eyes, trying to push that thought as far from his mind as possible.

Suddenly, the trapdoor above him opened, shaking him from his thoughts; Sharkey had gone into the room upstairs. He was rummaging about in the wooden chest. He returned a moment later with a small blanket. "Here," he said, throwing it over Carrot. "It's the best I can do."

Carrot accepted the blanket gratefully, and began shifting about under it, trying to cover himself as best he could.

Sharkey sat down opposite, and watched him. _He's just a kid, _he thought. _Why in the hells hadn't Watts waited and got the other geezer like they intended?_

Watts had told him all about the other geezer. What was his name again? Vimes? Apparently, he and the kid were devoted to each other, which meant he was probably going to lose it _big _time when he found out they were holding him hostage. He was a hard bastard too according to Watts; grew up around this area and knew how to fight, and not by fantailler rules, either. He could spell trouble for them if they weren't careful.

Carrot shifted under the blanket. He glanced up occasionally, but Sharkey noticed he was deliberately avoiding eye contact with him.

_Poor kid's half scared to death,_ he thought. _And he's trying not to show it._

Still, if Watts was right, and this Vimes geezer was as rich as Watts said he was, then maybe he'd just pay up. It would be the simplest thing to do after all. It wasn't as if they were asking for much, just enough to get them out of this shit-hole of a city and start a new life elsewhere. Besides, he didn't want to see the kid get hurt. Watts could be a nasty piece of work if he didn't get his own way, and that was the only thing wrong with him. He had a cruel streak that was totally unnecessary; it would be better for everyone if things went smoothly...

There was a sudden scrape of metal as the ring in the floorboards was lifted. The trapdoor opened and light spilled into the cellar.

Watts had returned.

"Just remember what I told you, eh, boy?" said Sharkey meaningfully, as he got up. He started towards the stone steps, and then stopped and turned around again. "And you'd best keep yourself covered, too," he added grimly. "Just to be on the safe side..."

-o0o-


	3. Chapter 3

**Missing!**

**Chapter 3**

Vimes paced the front office. It was almost 6 o'clock and the clacks requesting Carrot to return to the Watch House had gone unanswered. He'd already sent out as many officers as he could spare to look for him, but his copper instincts were telling him something was wrong. It was just a feeling he had in the pit of his stomach; a nagging doubt that all their searching was going to be in vain.

"What the bloody hell's happened to him, Fred?" he muttered under his breath.

Colon shuffled his feet. Vimes' constant pacing was beginning to un-nerve him. "I don't expect anything's happened to him, sir," he said. "He's probably just been delayed somewhere."

"Then why hasn't he answered the clacks?" Vimes growled. "Or sent one himself for that matter?"

"I'm sure there's a logical explanation for it, sir. Besides, Carrot's a big lad, he can look after himsel—"

"Exactly," Vimes snapped. "Which is precisely why I _am_ worried."

"Sir?"

"What if he hasn't answered the clacks because he _can't_, Fred? Supposing he's injured or something?" Vimes paced a few more steps, and then threw his hands up in the air. "Gods, he could be lying in a damned gutter somewhere!"

"It's possible, sir. But, if he were, sir, wouldn't somebody have found him by now?"

Vimes snorted. "Why doesn't that make me feel any better, Fred?" He rubbed his forehead, and then seemed to reach a decision. "Right, get any extra officers we have available out looking for him. And make sure there's someone out there around the clock, do you hear?"

"Yessir."

"And check with every doctor in the city. Find out if any of them have been called out in the past six hours, or if anyone's been injured and taken in to see them."

"Yessir."

"And the minute they find out anything I want to know, is that clear?"

"Yessir. Er... and if it's late, sir?"

"I don't care _WHAT_ the damned time is, Fred! I want to know, is that understood?"

"Yessir!"

Colon hurried away to carry out his orders. He was sweating profusely; glad for once to have something to do. He couldn't help thinking Vimes was worrying himself unnecessarily over Carrot, he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the commander so wound up.

Vimes took a deep breath and leaned his knuckles on the nearest desk. _Damn,_ he thought. _Why do I get the feeling I should have acted before now? Fred's probably right, there probably _is_ a logical explanation. But if anything's happened to that boy, I'll never forgive myself_...

He moved over to where Captain Noakes was working, keeping track of the officers out on patrol. "What's the latest from Sergeant Angua, captain?"

"She's still out with Corporal Littlebottom, sir. You sent them to—"

"Yes, yes," said Vimes wearily. "I know where they are." His head was starting to spin; he could feel a headache coming on. "Have they managed to find anything yet?"

"Not yet, sir," said Noakes patiently. He glanced up at the clock. "But they're due back soon, sir, they may be able to tell you more then."

Vimes nodded. "Right. Fine." He rubbed his temples. "I'll be in my office, let me know the minute they get back, would you?"

"Of course, sir."

Vimes climbed the stairs to his office. It was the last place he wanted to be. He felt so useless stuck in here when he could be out there doing something. But he had little choice; staying put and waiting for more information was the only way he'd be able to keep abreast of things.

He slumped into his chair and closed his eyes. _Why?_ he thought, as the headache began to take hold. _Over a million people live in this city, any one of them could have gone missing_... Why_ did it have to be Carrot?_

-o0o-

Watts descended the stone steps and closed the trapdoor behind him. He glanced at Carrot and then came over to Sharkey, grinning. "Been a good boy while I've been gone, has he?"

"Yeah, no trouble at all." Sharkey hefted his crossbow; it was still aimed at Carrot, even though there was no real need. "To tell you the truth, it's the other one I'm worried about."

Watts gave him a friendly slap on the back. "You worry too much, my friend. Have a little faith, will you?"

"I just want to make sure we do this right, that's all. It'd only take one mistake to—"

"Yeah, that's right," said Watts, fixing him with a dark stare. "So, we'd better make sure we don't make any, hadn't we?"

Sharkey averted his eyes; he had no desire to return that gaze. Someone once told him the eyes were the windows to the soul, if that were true then Watts' soul was as black as pitch. He turned his attention instead, to Carrot. "Did you manage to cover our tracks okay?" he asked Watts casually.

"Yeah," said Watts, walking over to where Carrot was sitting. "No one's gonna find us in a month of Sundays." He sniffed his hands absently and wiped them on his breeches. "In a couple of hours time that stink will be all over the city. No werewolf's gonna track us through that."

"I hope you're right," Sharkey grumbled. "'Cause that stuff cost us a small fortune."

"Which is what we'll have if we pull this off, right?"

"Yeah..." Sharkey conceded.

Carrot was listening to every word. His heart sank. He knew Vimes would be relying on Angua to follow his trail. Without her help it could be weeks, maybe even months, before anyone found him. Oh, they would keep looking of course, but in a city the size of Ankh-Morpork there were a million and one places you could hide someone. Their task was next to hopeless. And Carrot knew it.

Watts knew it too. He could see it in Carrot's face.

"Did you hear that, boy?" he said, kicking Carrot's foot spitefully. "The only way you're getting out of here now is if lover boy pays your ransom." Watts made sure to step back after kicking Carrot, just in case he retaliated.

Carrot ignored him. The cuffs allowed him limited movement; he'd be no match for the two men if Watts decided to start something.

When Carrot didn't react, Watts grinned cockily. "'Course," he said, licking his lips. "I haven't decided yet whether I want to give you back." His eyes had started to roam Carrot's body again. "See, I'm in half a mind to keep you for myself..."

"I suggest you worry about that _after_ you get the ransom note written, Watts," said Sharkey. "We are in this for the money, after all."

"Yeah..." said Watts thoughtfully, his eyes still on Carrot. "There's plenty of time yet, eh?"

-o0o-

It was dark outside when Angua and Cheery returned to the Watch House. The shifts had already changed and the Night Watch was on duty. Vimes was still there too, refusing to go home until they'd both reported back. He hurried down the stairs when he heard them come in.

Angua was just inside the door as Vimes reached the foot of the stairs.

Their eyes met across the room; Vimes held his breath, a questioning look in his eyes.

Angua shook her head slowly.

"Nothing at all?" said Vimes, his shoulders sagging. "Surely there must be—"

"Oh, there are trails, sir," said Angua, taking off her helmet. "But they're weak, and mostly they just go around in circles." She sighed. "You know how much ground Carrot covers in a day, sir. He could be anywhere."

Vimes cursed under his breath.

"And there's something else, too, sir... another smell."

"Another smell?" Vimes demanded. "What kind of smell?"

"Well, Cheery thinks it's scallas... er... scallit—"

"Scallatine, sir," said Cheery. "It's expensive stuff, sir, and not the sort of thing you'd want to go throwing around in the streets, but it's everywhere, sir. Of course, one of the alchemists could have dropped it by accident, sir, but it could have been used to... er... to... " She trailed off when she realized Vimes was fixing her with a stare capable of welding her helmet to her head.

"To _what_, corporal?" Vimes prompted.

"To cover up something, sir."

"Like _tracks_, perhaps?" It wasn't a question.

"Yes, sir," said Cheery meekly. "Like tracks..."

Vimes looked at Angua.

So did Cheery.

Angua looked concerned, Vimes just looked angry. Cheery realized Vimes was worried too, getting angry was just his way of dealing with it. Carrot was his second in command; she knew how important he was to him. But more than that, of course, they were friends.

Angua shrugged. "Well, whatever the case, sir, there are trails of the damned stuff over half the city. I can't track him through that. I could go back out and keep looking, of course, but—"

"No," said Vimes, scrubbing his face with his hands. "I already have half the Watch out looking for him, they have orders to let me know the minute they find anything. I'll need you fresh in the morning; you'd best go home and get some rest. Both of you."

"What about you, sir?" said Angua, noticing how drained he looked; the circles around his eyes were as dark as the shadow on his chin. "There can't be much more you can do here tonight, sir, and one of the captains can contact you if—"

Vimes shook his head. "No, Angua, I'm staying here. I can't rest knowing Carrot's still out there somewhere."

Angua touched his arm. "Sir," she said firmly, "I know how important Carrot is to you, but worrying isn't going to help. And you can't stay here all night. Besides, if anyone should be losing sleep over this, it's me." She held his gaze. "He is my boyfriend, in case you'd forgotten?"

Vimes blinked at her owlishly. "No, no, of course not." He managed to keep his voice even. "You're right, I, uh..." He tore his eyes away from her gaze and rubbed the back of his neck. "I, uh... I just have a few more things to see to here before I turn in."

Angua nodded. "All right. I'll see you at first light, then, sir." She put her helmet back on. "Come on, Cheery."

Cheery stifled a yawn as she followed Angua out the door. "'Night, sir."

"Goodnight," said Vimes, almost to himself.

He watched them leave.

But he didn't leave himself, not for a long while. He climbed the stairs to his office and fell into his chair. He sat there alone, staring blankly at the wall, Angua's words still ringing in his ears.

_"...He is my boyfriend, in case you'd forgotten?"_

He had, hadn't he? He'd been so wrapped up in his own concerns for Carrot he'd completely forgotten about Angua. Gods, what must she be going through? Well, she was handling it better than he was, that was for sure. She'd never struck him as being overly emotional, so he hadn't expected her to get hysterical. But he hadn't expected her to be quite so... _calm_ about it, either.

_"...I know how important Carrot is to you, sir, but worrying isn't going to help."_

No, worrying wasn't going to help. But she had no idea how much Carrot meant to him, and there wasn't a person on the Disc who would stop him worrying until he was sure Carrot was safe.

He suddenly wondered if the others had noticed how concerned he was about Carrot. He'd have to be careful; it wouldn't take much for them to start wondering why Carrot suddenly meant so much to him. Gods, this relationship was such a strain at times...

He pinched the bridge of his nose. _Just let him be safe,_ he thought. _That's all I ask_.

His office suddenly seemed unbearably oppressive.

He got up and grabbed his coat, and without bothering to close the door, he left his office, descended the stairs, and left the Yard without saying another word.

-o0o-

Vimes couldn't remember arriving at the house; he assumed he'd gotten home on automatic.

He crept into the bedroom. Sybil was already asleep; he recognized the steady rhythm of her breathing. He undressed and climbed in beside her, taking care not to wake her.

An hour later, he was still wide-awake, still staring at the ceiling. He lay there, half hoping, half dreading, that any minute now one of his officers would knock on his door with news of Carrot.

No one did.

Finally, unable to fight sleep off any longer, he fell into a fitful slumber. He managed to get almost three hours before he woke again, got dressed, and headed back to his office.

It was doubtful, however, that he would have slept that long, had he known about the ransom note that was already on its way to the Watch House...

-o0o-


	4. Chapter 4

**Missing!**

**Chapter 4**

There was already a commotion in the Watch House when Vimes opened the front door. For one brief moment, no one seemed to notice him as he entered and closed the door behind him.

A lone Watchman was trying to assert his authority in an effort to restore order. Others were huddled together in small groups, whispering and looking concerned. Somewhere above the din, Vimes recognized Colon's panic-stricken voice declaring: "Mister Vimes is going to go_ spare!_"

"Would someone like to tell me what the hell's going on?" Vimes yelled above the uproar.

Implausibly, the deathly silence that followed was more deafening than the racket that preceded it. Seconds dragged by like minutes, as the entire Watch House deliberated who would be the first to speak.

Vimes waited, patiently.

Captain Noakes pushed his way through the throng. "I was just about to contact you, sir," he said. "This arrived by pigeon just moments ago, sir." He handed Vimes a small, rolled-up piece of paper.

Vimes took it silently, looking around the room.

The entire Watch held its breath. You'd have thought Noakes had just handed him a stick of dynamite.

Which, in a way, he had...

Vimes opened it. There was an audible gasp from somewhere in the crowd.

"Morning, Fred..." Vimes replied, not quite under his breath.

All eyes watched him as he read the note, his eyes moving slowly across the page. He clenched his jaw. You could have heard a pin drop as he finished reading and inhaled deeply through his nose. "Sergeant Colon?" he said, his voice unusually calm, although it was clear he was struggling to maintain his composure. "Send a clacks out calling the men off. It won't be necessary to search for Captain Carrot any longer." He folded the note carefully. "And as soon as Sergeant Angua arrives, send her up to my office immediately."

"Yessir..."

Vimes looked up. "The rest of you, get back to work."

He shoved the note in his pocket and stalked across the room. No one moved. "What's the matter?" he growled at the horde. "Haven't you lot got anything to do?" He strode towards the stairs. "Captain Noakes!" he barked. "Come with me!"

The hubbub returned as the pair climbed the stairs to Vimes' office. The door slammed shut behind them.

Once inside, Vimes pulled the note from his pocket and waved it furiously in Noakes' face. "Tell me, captain," he bellowed. "When, exactly, did _my _correspondence become available to everyone?"

"Sir, I didn't realize the note was for you until—"

"Until you read it! Yes, I managed to work that much out for myself!"

Noakes did his best to ignore Vimes' ranting. The commander had been under a lot of stress since Captain Carrot had gone missing. And now this note had arrived, suggesting that... no, _stating_, that if he wanted to see his precious kid again, then he'd better have $100,000 ready by tomorrow morning or face the consequences. It seemed strange the way they'd worded it, he thought, describing Captain Carrot as Vimes' 'precious kid'.

"Well, since I do know, sir," said Noakes quietly. "What do you intend to do about it?"

Vimes fell into his chair. "Just how many options do I have, captain?"

Noakes sat in the chair opposite him. "Well, sir, if you'd only left the search party out looking for him, there's still a chance they may be able to—"

"They won't," said Vimes shortly. He leaned back in his chair, and considered Noakes silently for a moment. "Captain..." he said. "Just how many other people read that note?"

"No one, sir. Just me."

"But everyone downstairs seemed to be aware of its contents."

"I told them it concerned Captain Carrot, sir, nothing more."

Vimes nodded. "All right, so tell me, captain. Did anything about that note strike you as odd?" He knew it had; Noakes wasn't an unintelligent man, if he were he wouldn't have made captain.

It appeared he wasn't a liar either...

"Yes, sir, it did," said Noakes. "The wording."

Vimes waited, watching him. "What about it, captain?"

"Well, sir, they described Captain Carrot as your 'precious kid', sir."

"And why was that, do you think?" Vimes' heart began to beat a little faster.

"Well, sir, it's almost as if they think..." Noakes hesitated, lowering his eyes. "This is a bit embarrassing, sir..."

"No, please... go on."

"Well, sir, it's like they think you and he are..."

"Are what, captain?" Vimes' heart was pounding now.

Noakes took a deep breath. "Er, related, sir... like they think he's your son, or something."

Vimes stared at him, suddenly finding himself fighting an irresistible urge to laugh.

"Obviously they aren't from around here, sir," Noakes went on. "I mean, otherwise they'd know, sir, wouldn't they?"

Vimes allowed him to continue. He wanted to see what else was going on in that head of his. It was a sad fact of life these days; the Watch had grown so large that he hardly knew; _really_ knew, that is, the men he had working under him. Although Noakes was always working away quietly in the background somewhere, Vimes simply gave him his orders in the certain knowledge he'd carry them out efficiently. He never stopped to ask the man how his wife was. Hells, he didn't even know if he was married.

"Sir, forgive me if I'm speaking out of turn here," said Noakes. "But does it really matter, sir? What they think, I mean?" He shifted in his seat and leaned forward. "Sir, Captain Carrot has been kidnapped; surely that's the only thing we should be concerned about?"

"You're absolutely right, captain," said Vimes, suddenly seeing Noakes in a new light.

When Vimes didn't speak again, Noakes waited patiently for a few moments, and then said, "Sir, you still haven't answered my question; what do you intend to do about this?"

Vimes got up. "I intend to get the money," he said. "I can have it by tonight. The time factor's not a problem, not for that amount, anyway."

Noakes frowned. "You're just going to pay up, sir? You're not even going to try to catch them?"

"Not unless you can tell me where they are, captain. Can you?"

"No, sir, but—"

"Exactly. And you read _all_ the note, I take it?"

"If you mean the bit where they warn you against trying to find him, sir—"

"That's the bit. The bit where they said if they saw a Watchman searching within six streets of him, they'd kill him, yes."

Noakes frowned. "But it's obvious they're going to say that, sir. They want to scare you off."

"And you think I'm going to take that chance, captain?" Vimes' eyes remained fixed on him.

This time it was Noakes' turn to study Vimes. He scanned his granite features. Usually, he saw nothing but fire behind those hard grey eyes; an innate, burning desire to rid the city of everything that was bad; of everything that he hated. Like the criminals who preyed on the old and weak; the people who exploited the poor and the vulnerable; the bastards who took advantage of the young and innocent. The same kind of people who were holding Captain Carrot...

All he saw now was a tired resignation. What could have happened to change him so?

Noakes took a deep breath. "Sir... can I be frank for a moment?"

"Go ahead, captain."

"Sir, this... change of heart, sir. Is it due to the fact that Captain Carrot's one of us?"

Vimes shot him an angry look. "Are you saying I'd care less if he wasn't a Watchman, captain?"

"No, sir, of course not. It's just that these... tactics, sir, they seem unusual. For you, I mean."

Vimes' expression didn't change. "So, you're questioning my judgement now?"

Noakes sighed. "No, sir, not at all..." He shifted awkwardly in his seat. He'd always had the greatest respect for the commander; everyone did. Under normal circumstances he wouldn't have questioned anything he said or did. But Vimes appeared somewhat... strained lately. He knew Vimes felt responsible for the welfare of the men working under him; he also knew he took those responsibilities seriously. The fact that someone had kidnapped a Watchman, and Captain Carrot of _all_ people, had shaken everyone.

But Vimes more than most it seemed...

"Sir..." said Noakes carefully. "I realize the impact this has had on you; on _everyone_, sir. But are you sure this is really the best way to go about this?"

Vimes closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. "All right, captain," he sighed. "I'm listening. If you think you have a better suggestion, I suppose I'd better hear it."

"Well, sir, it is only a suggestion, but perhaps if you allowed Sergeant Angua to continue looking on her own, sir..."

Vimes shook his head. "They already know about Sergeant Angua, captain." He thought about the scallatine. "I'm certain of it."

"Exactly, so they'll know she's been foiled. That's the whole point. They realize the only way we're going to find Captain Carrot now is if we go over the whole city with a fine-tooth comb.

Vimes frowned. "I don't follow you..."

"Think about it, sir. They won't be expecting us to use Sergeant Angua again, what would be the point? And if what they say in the note is true, and they _are_ keeping a lookout for a search party, then they'll be looking for Watchmen, sir, not a wolf. If Sergeant Angua is careful, sir, she could carry on looking un-noticed."

Vimes considered it for a moment, and then shook his head. "No, it's too risky. Besides, I could be putting Sergeant Angua's life at risk."

Noakes was about to continue when there was a knock on the door.

"Come in!" Vimes snapped, not realizing that he had.

Angua appeared. "Er, morning, sir. Sergeant Colon told me to come straight up." She smiled at Noakes. "Morning, captain."

Noakes nodded a greeting, and then turned to Vimes. "Well, before you dismiss it out of hand, sir, why don't you ask the lady herself what she thinks?"

"About what?" said Angua. When no one answered immediately, she began looking from Noakes to Vimes, worriedly.

"Sit down, sergeant," said Vimes, his eyes still on Noakes. "You and I have some very important decisions to make..."

-o0o-


	5. Chapter 5

**Missing!**

**Chapter 5**

Angua sat down. The look on Vimes' face was unmistakable. Something had transpired overnight, it had something to do with Carrot; and it wasn't good...

"What is it, sir?" she said uneasily, looking from one anxious face to the other. "What's happened?"

Vimes' eyes were still fixed on Noakes. He lowered them and looked down at the note still folded in his hands. He fingered it absently, as if deciding whether or not to show it to her. He was thinking of the wording they had used.

_If you want to see your precious kid again.._.

Noakes had spotted it. Would Angua?

"Sir?" Angua repeated; her voice seemed to be coming from far away. "Has something happened to Carrot, sir?"

Vimes seemed unable to tear his eyes or his mind away from the note...

Noakes frowned, suddenly concerned. Vimes had a vague look in his eyes; it was the look of a man overwhelmed with the cares of the Disc, a man who had now been asked to make a life-changing decision. He looked lost.

"Sir?" said Angua again.

The hand holding the note seemed to raise itself, unbidden...

"Captain Carrot has been kidnapped, sergeant," said Noakes, his hand suddenly reaching out, tactfully pushing the note back into Vimes' lap. "And the kidnappers are demanding the commander has $100,000 ready by tomorrow morning, or face the consequences."

"Oh, dear gods!" Angua gasped.

Vimes looked up. He blinked at Noakes and then quickly regained his senses. "Angua, I don't need to tell you how carefully we need to handle this situation," he said. "And I think I ought to tell you that the first thing I intend to do is get the money."

"The money?" said Angua, panic edging into her voice. "But, sir, you of _all_ people know that's no guarantee of getting him back!"

"No, I know it's no guarantee, but at the moment we don't even know where he's being held, and—"

Angua got up. "Then I'll go back out and keep looking, sir! There's no way I'm going to sit here doing nothing!"

"Angua! I am not doing _nothing_!" said Vimes, jumping up suddenly and grabbing her arm as she threatened to head for the door. The change in her from the other night had taken him by surprise. Suddenly he found himself angry with her, not just for the way she'd spoken to him, but for the mere suggestion he might not be doing all he could to get Carrot back.

Noakes lowered his eyes.

"Angua! I want Carrot back just as much as you do!" said Vimes. "But I want him back _alive_, not dead!"

Angua faltered. "W-what do you mean, sir?" she said, her immediate thoughts of pulling away from him momentarily forgotten.

"Angua, in the note, it said..." Vimes hesitated, as he remembered the threatening words. "It said if they saw a Watchman searching within six streets of him, they'd kill him."

Angua sagged suddenly under his grip; Vimes held on, half afraid she might fold up completely.

"It's all right, Angua," he said, his anger dissipating as quickly as it had arrived. "We'll get him back somehow, I promise. But we need to go about this the right way."

Angua nodded. "Y-yes, sir," she muttered. "I-I'm sorry." She wiped her eyes quickly and straightened up. "Just tell me what I need to do, sir."

"Well, Captain Noakes has come up with a plan," said Vimes, handing her his hankie with his free hand. "But, first things first..."

"Sir?"

Vimes smiled weakly. "Would you mind sitting down again," he said. "Please?"

-o0o-

Watts leaned against the wall and stuck another matchstick in his mouth. He chewed it moodily. All the waiting around was beginning to get to him; he was getting tetchy. For the past half hour he'd managed to amuse himself by watching Carrot, as he painstakingly attempted to change positions beneath the pitiful blanket whilst still keeping himself covered. But after watching him do it for the umpteenth time, even that was beginning to annoy him.

"Can't you sit still for five minutes, boy?" he snarled irritably. "Your damn fidgetting's getting on my nerves!"

Sharkey looked up from inspecting his crossbow, noticing the familiar edge to Watts' voice. "Leave the kid alone, Watts," he said. "He's probably just uncomfortable."

A smirk crept slowly across Watts' face. "Well, maybe I can do something about that..." Watts got up and walked over to where Carrot was sitting. He towered over Carrot ominously. The matchstick in his mouth danced as he chewed it.

Carrot kept his eyes on the opposite wall. He didn't need to look up to know what Watts was doing; he'd been doing the same thing ever since he'd got there. Watts' eyes were all over him again; he could feel it. It made his skin crawl, and made him wish desperately that Vimes were there.

Watts nudged Carrot's foot with his boot. "Hey, boy..." he whispered. "How 'bout you and me go into the other room for a while?"

Carrot swallowed. "Er, no, I-I don't think so."

Sharkey strained his ears in an attempt to hear what was being said.

"C'mon..." said Watts, his tone conspiratorial. "Your boyfriend doesn't have to know..."

The very words infuriated Carrot; something inside him snapped. "I said, _no_!"

Sharkey got up. "Hey, Watts, stop tormenting the kid, will ya?"

Watts spun around. "What's the matter with _you_ all of a sudden? It's not as if he doesn't _like_ men!"

"Yeah, and have you forgotten who his boyfriend is?"

Watts' eyes widened in theatrical horror. "Oh, yes, of course!" he exclaimed. "The great Commander Vimes!" He snorted. "What d'you keep worrying about _him_ for? You don't even _know_ the man!"

"I know I don't want to get on the wrong side of him!" Sharkey realized how stupid it sounded as soon as he'd said it.

Watts shook his head. "Don't you think it's a little late for that, Sharkey?"

When Sharkey didn't reply, Watts returned his attention to Carrot. Now, he seemed more agitated than amorous. "So, what is it you see in this Commander Vimes, then, boy? I wouldn't have thought he was your type. He looks a right miserable bugger to me; face like thunder all the time."

"It's none of your business!" said Carrot, incensed now, despite himself.

"Well, it makes no sense to me," said Watts. "Nice looking lad like you..." His eyes were roaming Carrot's body again. The leer, never far from his face, was slowly returning. "You could've had anyone, I reckon. Someone like me, perhaps...?"

Carrot glared at him. "Commander Vimes is worth _ten_ of you!" he spat.

Sharkey attempted to shoot Carrot a warning glance, but Carrot was looking the other way.

"And don't think this will be over once you get your money!" Carrot went on. "Because it _won't_ be! Commander Vimes will find you and hunt you down like the dogs you are!"

Sharkey closed his eyes.

Watts' features twisted strangely. "Oh, is that so?" he said, reaching to his belt and pulling the thin dagger from its sheath; the silken sound had the effect of stopping Carrot dead in his tracks. Watts twirled the blade purposefully between his fingers and fixed Carrot with a dark stare.

Sharkey took a step forward.

"Stay out of this, Sharkey," said Watts quietly. "This is just between me and the boy."

The hairs on the back of Sharkey's neck stood up. "Watts, for god's sakes, don't do anything stupid... Not now." He edged towards Watts cautiously.

Watts spun around. "Stay where you are, Sharkey!" he warned; the dagger was aiming at him now, readied to strike. "I'm sick of all this pussy-footing around. I think it's about time I showed everyone who's in charge here!"

Despite the danger to himself, Sharkey took another step forward, but he did so hesitantly, clearly indecisive. Finally, giving Carrot a somewhat apologetic look, he decided to back down.

Watts flashed him a crooked smile and then switched the blade skilfully to his other hand. And then he turned, returning his attention to the now petrified Carrot...

-o0o-

Angua got up from her chair. "So, let me make sure I've got this absolutely right, sir. I have until the deadline tomorrow morning to continue searching for him, correct?"

"That's when the next note is due to arrive, yes," said Vimes. "Until then, we don't even know where they want the money delivered. Assuming we decide to hand it over, of course."

"But you still intend to get the money?"

"Oh, there's no question about it. It's vital we have something to bargain with. Think of it as..." Vimes searched for the right word. "As backup, I suppose. It seems the money is their only motivation for this kidnapping, after all."

Angua nodded. "And it's imperative I'm not seen actively searching for him?"

"A slight understatement. But, yes."

Noakes got up and handed Angua her helmet. She took it distractedly and began examining the rivets on it, taking in a deep breath, an obvious attempt to steady her nerves. Then she looked up at Vimes.

For a moment, Vimes saw his own concern reflected in her eyes, and suddenly he realized how selfish he'd been. It was clear she loved Carrot as much as he did, and it made him more determined than ever to get him back safely now, for her sake, as well as his own.

"Angua," he said, feeling he should say something. "I know this may be hard to believe, but I—"_ Careful,_ he thought. _Choose your words carefully_. "I... think I know what you're going through," he managed. "And if there was any way on the Disc I could trade places with Carrot, believe me, I would."

"I know you would, sir," said Angua, giving him a weak smile. "And you ought to know it wouldn't make me feel any better." She looked down again, continuing to study her helmet. "But, thank you, sir," she added quietly. She put her helmet on and tapped it, hoping the gesture made her look more confident than she felt. "Right," she said. "I'd best get going. We're wasting precious time."

"Be careful, Angua," said Vimes, as she headed for the door.

"Don't worry, sir. I'm aware of what's at stake here."

Vimes moved to the door and watched her leave, the look of uneasiness returning to his face.

Noakes watched too, his own face full of consternation. But his eyes weren't on Angua; his concern was for someone else...

Vimes leaned heavily against the doorframe and closed his eyes. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep up this charade. Outside, he was just about coping, but inside, he knew he was falling apart. It was more than he could bear; the thought of Carrot out there somewhere, alone, in the hands of gods knows whom. He hadn't lied when he said he'd trade places with him. He meant it.

He wanted Carrot back so badly he ached.

-o0o-


	6. Chapter 6

**Missing!**

**Chapter 6**

Angua stepped out into Pseudopolis Yard shielding her eyes against the sunlight. For an Ankh-Morpork morning it was really rather pleasant outside. If it wasn't for the enormity of her task, and the terrifying consequences if she failed, she might have actually felt good about going out on patrol.

And somehow, that just made it worse.

It proved how fickle fate was, and just how quickly fortunes could change. This time yesterday she and Carrot had been chatting idly in the Watch canteen. Now, less than 24 hours later, she might be all that stood between his life... and death.

She couldn't afford to screw this up. The price of failure would be Carrot.

_Her _Carrot...

She shook her head, refusing to dwell on it any longer as she left the Yard and headed south, towards Pon's Bridge.

-o0o-

Vimes pushed himself off the doorframe and sighed. Then he turned, and looked straight into the worried face of Captain Noakes.

It suddenly struck Vimes that he'd gotten so used to having Noakes around in the background somewhere that he hardly seemed to notice him at times; like an object in a room, so familiar that it no longer registered. It was an awful thing, he thought, to suddenly discover the people you relied on for so much were often the very people you took for granted; Noakes gave all he had to the job, and for the most part, Vimes simply ignored him.

It was hard to ignore him now though, or the look of concern in his eyes.

"I, uh... I didn't get a lot of sleep last night, captain," Vimes offered dismissively. "I guess it's catching up with me."

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, sir," said Noakes quietly.

Vimes gave him a tired smile. "No, no, I don't, do I?" He looked down at the note still folded in his hands, turning it over as if his entire world revolved around it. "But, still..."

Noakes watched him. "I'm sure Angua will do her best to find him, sir."

Vimes looked up. "Yes, yes, I'm sure she will, captain." He sighed and shoved the note in his pocket. "And now, it's time I did my bit." He reached behind the door and grabbed his jacket. "I'm going to leave you in charge while I arrange the money, captain. It shouldn't take too long, but I'll expect you to contact me if anything happens while I'm away."

"Yes, sir, of course."

"And then I'd better see the Patrician," said Vimes, shrugging on his jacket. "He'll need to know about this, of course." He grimaced. "That is, if he doesn't know already."

"I'll get word to him straight away, sir, to let him know you're on your way." Noakes took out his notepad and began to write. "I believe a brief outline of events will suffice for now, sir," he said, without looking up. "I've no doubt you'll want to fill him in on the details yourself when you get there."

Vimes buttoned his jacket as he watched him write. "Yes, that's right, captain..." Vimes smoothed down his jacket.

Noakes looked up. "Is there anything else you'd like me to do, sir?"

"No, no, that's it," said Vimes. He watched as Noakes began dealing with the paperwork immediately. "Right," he said, patting his pockets, just for effect. "I'll leave everything in your capable hands, then, captain."

"I'll do my best, sir."

_Yes, you will, won't you? _Vimes thought as he left.

-o0o-

Watts leaned closer, until his face was merely inches away from Carrot's. He held the dagger out in front of him, so that the thin blade was the only thing separating them.

"What's the matter, boy?" he said, eyeing Carrot from behind the blade. "You seem to have lost your tongue."

Carrot blinked, and tried to back away. The advancing blade was dangerously close to his face, and the manic gleam in Watts' eye told him he had no scruples about using it. Carrot's shoulder blades scraped along the wall, but with his back already pressed hard against the brickwork he barely managed to move more than a couple of inches.

Watts reached out and held the blade against Carrot's cheek.

"Y-you'll only make it worse for yourself if you harm me," said Carrot. "Commander Vimes will—"

"But Commander Vimes isn't here, is he, boy?" said Watts, trailing the blade delicately down Carrot's cheek. "It's just you and me now."

Carrot closed his eyes. His mind raced frantically, as he tried to think of everything Vimes had ever taught him.

Vimes had made every effort to try and educate Carrot in the workings of the criminal mind. Every day he was explaining something to him. Not the kind of stuff he could find in 'The Laws and Ordinances of the city of Ankh-Morpork', but the useful stuff, like what to do if you ever found yourself at the wrong end of a crossbow, or how to talk yourself out of a situation in which you were hopelessly outnumbered.

Vimes knew, or rather hoped, that most of it would never apply to Carrot. By and large, most petty criminals played it by the book, and as for the rest of the populace, well, in their eyes Carrot _was _the law. But Vimes had made a point of telling him anyway, knowing that one day there would always be one vicious bastard who refused to play by the rules.

Carrot tried to remember if Vimes had ever told him what to do if he found himself in a cellar, naked; handcuffed hand and foot, in the company of two armed men.

Nothing came to mind.

Something did though...

_"...Circumstances can sometimes drive normal, law-abiding people to do unlawful things, lad,_" he'd said. "_It wasn't necessarily because they were bad; it was because they were desperate. And desperate people sometimes did bad things..."_

Carrot opened his eyes and blinked at Watts. He wasn't sure if there was ever a time in Watts' past when he'd been law-abiding, but he certainly looked desperate.

_"...And if the worse ever comes to the worst, lad, and you find yourself up to your neck in it, then just play along with them. But for god's sakes don't antagonize them. Just play for time and hope like hells that help comes soon..."_

"So, why don't you tell me about Commander Vimes?" said Watts, fascinated suddenly by the sight of the blade against Carrot's flawless cheek. "Tell me what sort of man he is."

"H-he's a good man," said Carrot. "He cares about people."

"Well, that's good," said Watts approvingly. "And since he obviously cares about you, then he'll have no trouble paying up, right?"

"I-I don't know," said Carrot truthfully. "Only Commander Vimes can answer that."

Watts' right eye twitched. "But you know him better than anyone," he said. "What do _you_ think?" The pressure on the blade increased. "Tell me the truth, boy."

"I-I know he doesn't agree with kidnapping," said Carrot. "He says there are other ways to get what you want. He says it's not right to—"

"I'm not interested in what's _right_, boy, I'm only interested in whether or not he'll pay."

Sharkey had been slowly edging closer. He was within earshot now, and suddenly interested in what Carrot had to say.

"Well, he might pay if he were forced to," said Carrot, glancing up at Sharkey as he came nearer. "But I don't think he'd be very happy about it..."

"I knew it was a bad idea to get the kid," Sharkey grumbled. "I said it'd bring nothing but trouble."

"Shut up, Sharkey," Watts hissed.

"We should've waited and got Vimes like we intended. His wife wouldn't have given us any trouble; she would've just given us the money. This Vimes geezer ain't gonna pay!"

"Yes he will... now _back off_!"

"Haven't you been listening, Watts? Didn't you hear what the kid just said?"

"I heard _exactly _what he said," said Watts coldly. "He said Vimes'd pay if he were _forced _to."

There was an awful moment of silence, and then the realization of what Watts had just said suddenly sank in.

"Oh, no, Watts..." said Sharkey. "Not this time. We don't need—"

Sharkey didn't see what happened next; his view was blocked by Watts' back. But there was no mistaking the sudden movement of Watts' weapon hand, or Carrot's yelp of pain.

Sharkey stared, wide-eyed, frozen to the spot. Somewhere in front of Watts, he heard Carrot whimper. "Oh, my gods, Watts... What have you done?"

Watts inhaled deeply through his nose and then let it out again slowly. He wiped the blade calmly on the corner of Carrot's blanket.

"See how careless I get when people upset me, Sharkey?" he said. "Now I've gone and made the kid bleed..."

-o0o-


	7. Chapter 7

**Missing!**

**Chapter 7**

Vimes made no attempt to hide the scowl on his face as he climbed the steps to the Oblong office. He wasn't looking forward to this meeting. Vetinari had already made it clear how he felt about his and Carrot's relationship. Another confrontation like the one they'd had when he found out about them, was _not_ what he needed right now.

He shuddered as he recalled the way Vetinari had stood there that day and calmly _advised_ him to end their relationship. He hadn't been angry about it; he'd just smiled, in that sanctimonious way of his, as if splitting them up gave him some kind of perverse pleasure. He hadn't been successful, of course; Carrot had put paid to that, but he'd always avoided the subject on subsequent visits to the palace. The subject was damned near unavoidable now though. Vetinari wouldn't miss this opportunity to lecture him about how his reluctance to stop seeing Carrot had brought him nothing but trouble, and he had an awful feeling this meeting was about to turn into a repeat performance.

Vimes entered the anteroom and sat down. He stared blankly at the wall, trying not to listen to the sounds of the hated clock. He could already feel the tension building inside him.

It had never really been clear why Vetinari had been so against their relationship, since Vimes had been given to understand it wasn't the actual _idea_ Vetinari was averse to, just the fact that it was _him_.

_What in the hells would he know about it anyway_? he thought. _He has no more feelings than a dead cat_...

Drumknott appeared. "His Lordship said to go straight in, sir," he said. "He's been expecting you."

_I'll bet he has,_ thought Vimes.

Vetinari was standing by the window when he entered. He turned when he heard Vimes come in, and immediately came across the room to meet him. His face was grave.

"Sir Samuel," he said. "What's all this about Captain Carrot being kidnapped? Some sort of hoax, surely?"

"I wish it were, sir," said Vimes grimly, fishing in his pocket for the note. "But this arrived this morning, sir." He handed the note to Vetinari. "I take it Captain Noakes has already informed you about it?"

"He mentioned it, certainly," said Vetinari, taking it from him. "But he gave me scant details, I'm afraid. He said you would explain it to me when you got here."

"There's nothing to explain, sir," said Vimes. "It's all there in the note."

Vimes waited as Vetinari unfolded the note and began to read it. His lips moved silently as his eyes skimmed across the page. Suddenly, he frowned and looked up; he stared straight ahead, seemingly at nothing.

Vimes braced himself.

"Who else has seen this note, commander?" said Vetinari abruptly.

"Only Captain Noakes, sir."

The Patrician pursed his lips.

"He was the officer in charge when it arrived, sir," said Vimes, feeling strangely as though he should defend Noakes' actions. "Therefore, it was his job to open and read it."

"I see. Well, as far as I can remember, commander, Captain Noakes is neither illiterate nor stupid."

"No, sir, he's far from it."

"So, would you mind telling me what _he_ made of this?"

"He seemed to think it was a ransom note, sir."

Vetinari turned to face him.

Vimes sighed. "He doesn't know anything, sir. He thinks the kidnappers have mistaken Carrot for a... a relative of mine. My son, perhaps."

"Your _son_?"

"Well, they're not from around here, sir. So, that's probably what they do think, since they can't know about... well, they can't possibly know anything else."

Vetinari drummed his fingers on the note. "Aren't you missing one small detail here, commander?"

Vimes rubbed his forehead. "I don't know, sir," he said wearily. "Am I?" _I don't need this_, he thought. _What I need now is a good night's sleep; a few hours when I don't have to worry about Carrot getting himself killed, or someone else finding out about us..._

"Sir Samuel, while I fully appreciate how upset you might be under the circumstances—"

"_Upset_?"

"—I can see it's already affecting your ability to think."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Sir Samuel, these people aren't opportunists. This kidnapping has been planned."

"And?" said Vimes, a little testily.

"And so if it's been planned," said Vetinari, in the tones of one talking to a child. "Then presumably these people have been watching Captain Carrot—"

"Oh, dear gods..."

"—And therefore you, too, Sir Samuel—"

"Oh, no, no..."

"—For weeks, or maybe even longer."

Vimes closed his eyes. The worn-out cogs of his overloaded brain turned one revolution; reached a conclusion, and then slowly ground to a halt. He covered his face with his hands.

"They know," he said.

He began to wonder what he'd ever done in his sorry life to deserve this; no one deserved this much grief. It would be a miracle if he got through the rest of the day with his sanity intact.

"Sir Samuel—"

"Don't..." said Vimes hoarsely, from behind his hands. "Please, just... don't."

Vetinari waited. He allowed Vimes a few moments, and then, somewhat sympathetically, said, "I was about to ask what's being done about this, Sir Samuel."

Vimes took a long, quavering breath. "The truth is I can't find him, sir," he said, an edge of desperation creeping into his voice. "I've still got Angua out looking for him, but frankly, I think it's a pretty hopeless task." He let his hands fall from his face. "Whoever's got him knows what they're doing, sir, and that scares the hells out of me."

He looked up.

It was then that Vetinari saw the depth of despair in his eyes; it was almost painful to see. He'd clearly underestimated Vimes' feelings for the young man. He wondered how Vimes had developed such an affinity with Carrot, since essentially, of course, they were opposites. In many ways, Captain Carrot was more like himself; a fact not entirely lost on him. He was aware that opposites could attract, and tempted as always to dwell on the possibilities of that fact, once again he dismissed the thought quickly...

"So, what happens now, Sir Samuel?" he said. "I take it you have some sort of plan?"

"Of sorts," said Vimes. The truth was he didn't have a plan, not yet; but he was working on it. "I intend to give them what they want," he said. "I already have half the money, and the rest will be ready in about..." he glanced at his watch. "...six hours time."

Vetinari shook his head sadly.

"The deadline was never a problem," Vimes continued, ignoring him. "The only problem I have is making sure they hand him over. Look, I don't care about the damned money, sir, I'd pay if it were ten times that amount."

"You're not going to _trust _these people, surely, Sir Samuel?"

"Of course I'm not!"

"Then why in heaven's names are you—"

There was a rap on the door. Drumknott's head appeared around it; he was flushed, and unusually flustered.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, milord," he said. "But Captain Noakes is here, sir. He said he needed to speak with the commander."

"Noakes?" said Vimes. "What's he doing here?"

"He wouldn't tell me, sir," said Drumknott, clearly affronted. "He just said it was important."

"Then what are you waiting for?" said Vimes. "Send him in, man!"

Drumknott hardly had time to move away from the door before Captain Noakes pushed his way past him. He was out of breath. Whatever it was he had to tell Vimes, he'd obviously decided it couldn't wait and had legged it from the Yard to deliver the message himself.

"What is it, captain?" said Vimes.

"Another note, sir," Noakes gasped.

"_What_?" Vimes felt the blood drain from his face. "We weren't supposed to get another note until tomorrow!"

"No, sir, I know that..." Noakes held his side, trying to get his breath back. "That's why I thought you should see it straight away, sir." He swallowed hard and held out a small, rolled-up piece of paper.

Vimes took it. "What in the hells is this?" He felt his stomach knot.

Vimes fumbled with the note. His fingers suddenly felt like bananas and his hands were shaking. He swore under his breath. Finally, he opened it...

...and the tenuous strands that had been holding him together edged another notch nearer to breaking point.

Vimes fell back clumsily into the nearest chair. "No..." he muttered. "This isn't happening. Oh, dear gods, why are they doing this to me?" The note slipped from his hands and fell to the floor. "The time..." he muttered. "It's not enough... Dear gods, it's not enough _time_!"

Vetinari bent down and picked up the note. He read it amid the sound of Vimes' world falling apart around him.

The wording was unequivocal.

..._We've wounded the kid and left him to bleed. In roughly 3 hours time he'll go into shock; shortly after that he will die. You have the same amount of time to deliver the money, or never be told of his whereabouts..._

The note was smeared with blood. Scrawled at the bottom were delivery instructions and the time at which the note had been written.

Vetinari looked up at the clock...

The note was already 26 minutes old.

-o0o-


	8. Chapter 8

**Missing!**

**Chapter 8**

Carrot's eyelids flickered. He tried to focus on the sound of the voices, anything to distract himself from the total misery that had become the sum of his world. His wound was throbbing; his back ached, and his arms, still handcuffed securely behind his back, had long since had any feeling. He wondered how long it would be before the numbness spread to the rest of his body, and if it would be preferable to the pain. Finally, giving up trying to think at all, he groaned and let his head fall to his chest.

Sharkey was sitting opposite, watching him. "You shouldn't have cut him, Watts," he said. "He doesn't look too good."

"I know what I'm doing," said Watts calmly. He was sitting beside Sharkey, cleaning his fingernails with the dagger; a task he obviously deemed more important since he didn't bother looking up.

"But what if he _dies_, Watts? Have you even _thought_ about that?"

Watts held out his hand and inspected his handiwork, then wiped the blade on his breeches and continued cleaning another nail. "I think you're underestimating the good commander, Sharkey," he said. "He won't let him die."

"Was there any need to cut him at _all_? I mean you could've smeared _rat's_ blood on the note, there's enough of 'em around!" Sharkey had seen one earlier as big as a small dog; he'd used it for target practice until Watts had stopped him. He hated the damned things.

"And you think a werewolf can't tell the difference, is that it?"

Watts didn't wait for an answer; he got up and walked over to where Carrot was sitting. He grabbed Carrot's chin roughly and turned his head from side to side. "You'd better get out there soon, Sharkey," he said. "If Vimes is expecting to save the kid then he ought to be sending someone with the money pretty soon." He let go of Carrot's chin. "And remember, do _exactly_ as I told you. You pick up the money and come straight back here, you got that?"

"Can't you go, Watts? I can watch the kid."

"No, I need to stay here. I have... things to do."

"But what if they're armed? Or there's more than one of them?" Sharkey didn't bother asking which 'things' needed doing, although he found himself giving Carrot a pitying look.

"Vimes isn't stupid. He knows what'll happen if he doesn't follow the note to the letter."

"Oh, c'mon, Watts! You can't really believe he's going to send someone here alone and unarmed?"

"And plain clothed," Watts added evenly. "You missed out 'plain clothed'."

Sharkey threw up his hands. "Oh, well, who am _I _to argue?" he said, getting up and striding across the room. "You obviously know the man better than _I_ do." He climbed the stone steps and slammed the trapdoor open with more force than was necessary. "I just hope you're right, that's all," he said. "Because if anything looks iffy I'm coming straight back."

"Of course you are, Sharkey," said Watts, following him. "Just make sure you don't come back without the money, that's all."

Sharkey disappeared out into the alley, slamming the door behind him.

Watts shook his head. Sharkey was a fool. But then, even fools had their uses...

Watts turned and walked across to the chest in the corner. A shiver of anticipation ran through him as he lifted the lid. The chest's deadly contents stared up at him. He reached inside and ran his hand lovingly over the assorted blades. He'd always had a weakness for daggers; there was something almost sensual about them. Death could be brought about quickly... or painfully slow. It was simply a matter of precision.

He had other things in mind now though, and for that, he needed something else. He delved deeper until he found what he was looking for; he slipped it into his pocket. Then he reached for his next favourite item...

The rope.

-o0o-

Vimes flew out of the Oblong office; the bag containing the money clutched tightly to his chest.

Noakes came out behind him, struggling to keep up. Suddenly, Vimes was moving with the speed and agility of a man half his age. But he was running on pure adrenaline now, and Noakes knew it; sooner or later it was going to exact its terrible toll.

"We need to move quickly, captain," said Vimes, pulling the note from his pocket. "I want you to get a clacks to Sergeant Angua, meet her back at the Yard and give her this." He tore off the top half of the note and shoved it in Noakes' general direction. "I want to know if this is Carrot's blood." He grimaced. "I don't doubt that it is, but it'll make a huge difference to me if it's not." He shoved the bottom half of the note in his pocket.

"What are you going to do, sir?" said Noakes.

"I'm going to see if I can arrange more money," said Vimes. "And then I'll contact you."

"But, sir—"

"We don't have time, captain, now go!"

Noakes turned and headed off in the direction of the nearest clacks tower. It was clear from the look on his face he wasn't happy about leaving the commander.

Vimes watched him go. He hated himself for sending Noakes back to the Yard on an errand designed to do nothing more than delay him. But he'd already made up his mind about what he was going to do. Noakes was a good man, but that was why he couldn't stay; because Noakes would try to stop him, and right now, he didn't have the time or the inclination to argue.

Vimes waited until Noakes was out of sight, and then stripped off his armour. His helmet and sword-belt followed. Going back to get plain clothes was out of the question; as was getting more money; there simply wasn't enough time. There was never any doubt in his mind _he'd_ be the one to deliver the money; he'd never have given that job to anyone else. If anything happened to Carrot then he'd have only himself to blame. No one else should have to shoulder that responsibility.

Vimes pulled the remainder of the note from his pocket and read it again. The drop-off point was in the Shades. Fine. Home turf. If push came to shove that might give him an advantage.

The gods knew he needed it...

Vimes snatched up the bag and headed south, as fast as his tired legs could carry him.

-o0o-

Angua burst in through the Watch House door; she didn't need to search for Noakes, he was waiting for her.

"I got here as fast as I could," she said. "What's happened?"

"There's been another note," said Noakes, pulling the bloody scrap from his pocket. But he kept his fingers wrapped around it when he saw Angua's face. "Look, I know it's not pretty, but... the commander needs you to check this to see if it's—"

Angua stared at Noakes' clenched fist.

"—I mean it might not be his, they may be only—"

Angua snatched the note wordlessly, and headed straight for Vimes' office.

"—bluffing," said Noakes to the carpet.

-o0o-

Vimes leaned back against the wall and tried to get his breath back. He was halfway along the Whore Pits at the northern end of the Shades. He still had a long way to go, but his heart felt like it was fit to burst, and the back of his throat was burning. It was the second time he'd had to stop, but it was either that or risk a damned heart attack.

He glanced at his watch. _One minute_... he thought. _I'll allow myself one minute_.

Two men appeared suddenly from out of nowhere; glancing with interest at the bag he was holding. The way he was clutching it to his chest as if his very life depended on it, obviously signalled it was of great importance.

Of greater importance to the two men, however, was the no-nonsense look on the face of the man holding it...

The pair shared a knowing look before moving off in search of easier prey.

Vimes pushed himself off the wall, and stumbled onwards...

It was another ten minutes before he arrived at his destination. He was close to the docks, but he didn't need to look around to know that, he recognized the smell; and the rats, of course, they were bigger here than anywhere else. He remembered joking about them when he was little; saying that one of them was enough to feed a dwarf family for a whole week. Funny, how everything seemed like a big joke when you were eight years old.

Vimes hastened down one side of an old warehouse. It was stacked high with wooden crates. He searched desperately among them for the one in which he'd been told to leave the money. The one bound for Klatch the note had said; but suddenly he realized that every crate had a destination label on it, meaning he had to check every one. He swore under his breath. The sadistic bastards knew how little time he had, why hadn't they just painted it bright red?

He felt his anger rising as time ticked slowly away...

Finally he found what he was looking for and threw in the money. He slammed down the lid and then walked away.

But he had no intentions of leaving.

As soon as he was out of sight, he clambered up the nearest drainpipe allowing him access to the rooftops. He crept along until he had a clear view of the wall of crates, then he flattened himself against the tiles and waited...

He didn't have to wait long.

Sharkey appeared from a side alley, heading straight for the Klatchian crate. He didn't look around, and he didn't hang about; he simply opened the crate, grabbed the money and left.

Vimes dropped down off the roof and followed him.

Sharkey was moving quickly, but Vimes had no trouble keeping up with him. He followed at a safe distance, finally arriving at the entrance to a long, narrow alleyway. It was dark and littered with rubbish. And was literally crawling with rats.

Sharkey moved to the far end and then disappeared through a doorway. Vimes followed him just far enough to be sure of where he'd gone, and then stopped. He clenched his fists.

_Got you, you bastard_...

There was a clacks tower less than a hundred yards from where he was standing. In less than ten minutes he could have a dozen armed Watchmen here. His hand moved instinctively to his sword-belt. Damn, why hadn't he brought his weapon? No one had even checked to see if he was alone or unarmed. They were more amateurish than he'd thought.

The thought of Carrot being just behind the door was tempting him to follow the man, but he knew it would be foolish to tackle them alone. A weapon in the hand of an amateur was no less deadly than a weapon in the hand of a professional. He'd send for backup first, and then come back to make sure the bastards didn't leave.

Vimes turned to come out of the alley.

And froze.

Someone was standing in the entrance, silhouetted in the light of the opening.

"Noakes?" he called out, uncertainly.

The figure took a few steps forward, stopping deliberately where the light streamed in through a gap in the buildings.

It wasn't Noakes.

This man was weasel-like. His dark, lank hair hung around his face, and he had a matchstick hanging from his mouth. Even from this distance he looked evil.

He was armed.

Vimes took in the weapon in the man's hand and his blood ran cold. He was holding a one-shot; a weapon designed not for fighting, but for killing. And it was as effective as hell.

The man's voice matched his appearance perfectly.

"I knew you'd come, Vimes..."

-o0o-


	9. Chapter 9

**Missing!**

**Chapter 9**

Angua came out of Vimes' office holding the bloody scrap of paper. "It's Carrot's," she said bluntly, thrusting it back at Noakes.

"I'm sorry, Angua..."

"So, are you planning to tell me what's going on?" said Angua impatiently. "Where's the rest of the note? And more importantly, Noakes, what did it say?"

Noakes looked up. "I-I don't know. I didn't see it."

"Well, where in the hells is he?"

"Who?"

"Vimes, of course! He was with you, wasn't he?"

"I left him outside the Patrician's Palace..." Noakes frowned and shook his head. "He said something about getting more money... but he was already holding what I assumed was the ransom."

"And you just let him go?" said Angua incredulously. "A note arrives covered in Carrot's blood, and you just let Vimes walk off with the money?"

"Well, I—"

"In the state of mind _he's_ in?" she said, throwing up her hands. She grabbed Noakes' arms. "Noakes, listen to me! This is important! Where did they ask for the money to be delivered, do you know?"

"No... The commander put the note in his pocket. I didn't ask to see it."

"Damn!"

"Angua, you can't really believe he's—"

"The way _he's_ been acting lately? Noakes, I'm ready to believe just about anything! I just wish I knew what that _stupid _man is playing at."

"He's not that stupid," said Noakes loyally. "If that _is_ his intention, then he obviously had enough presence of mind to send me back here to get you."

Angua sighed. "You're right," she said. "Well, if that's where he's gone, you'd better take me to the last place you saw him. Because if we're to have any chance of finding him I'll need to pick up his trail as soon as possible." She jammed her helmet on her head and started down the stairs. "And pray to gods it doesn't lead anywhere near the Shades, Noakes. Because if it _does_, it's going to be a nightmare tracking him through that damned scallatine..."

-o0o-

Watts moved further down the alley. The one-shot didn't waver from the centre of Vimes' chest as he approached.

"Before you think about trying anything heroic, Vimes," he said. "You ought to know that I'm not likely to miss at this distance, and if you die, I won't bother saving the kid." He shrugged. "It's the death penalty for me either way, so I may as well hang for a sheep, as hang for a lamb."

"If I had my way you'd hang anyway," Vimes snarled.

"Temper, temper, commander..."

"Where's the boy?" Vimes growled. "You've got your damned money, now tell me where he is!"

"Why, he's right through there," said Watts, motioning to the door at the end of the alley. He gestured with the one-shot, indicating that Vimes move towards it. "You're free to go and get him."

Vimes hesitated. "How do I know you won't just shoot me in the back?"

"You don't..." said Watts. "But what choice do you have?"

"You bastard!"

"Oh, come on, Vimes. I'm not a barbarian. I've never killed anyone yet without giving them a sporting chance."

Vimes gave him a look of pure hatred. "Is that what you call wounding the boy?" he said. "A sporting chance?" He could feel his nails digging into his palms. It was all he could do not to launch himself at the man and beat the seven hells out of him.

Watts shrugged. "I had to be sure you'd pay," he said. "Plus, it had the added bonus of giving you less time to think." He nodded to the doorway. "Shall we?"

Vimes moved towards the entrance, but hesitated before entering. "Just tell me he's all right," he said. "I need to know now you're not taking me to see a corpse."

"He's all _right_, Vimes," said Watts. "But I can guarantee he _won't _be if you don't quit stalling."

Vimes ducked under the doorway and entered into the gloom beyond.

It took Vimes' eyes a while to accustom themselves to the light, and realizing that Watts would have the same problem, Vimes had a sudden urge to tackle him. He pictured the weapon in his hand. One shot, that's all he had. If he fired and missed, it would be over. Then again, if he fired and _didn't_ miss...

Watts kicked the door closed behind him.

"Over there," he said, motioning to the next doorway.

Vimes scanned the room automatically as he passed through it, taking a mental note of his surroundings. The room was littered with crates and sacks; there was also a large chest in the corner. It was obviously an old storage room of some kind.

They entered the next room.

Sharkey was coming up from the cellar as they appeared. "Where in the hells have you been, Watts?" he said. "I've been looking—" He stopped when he saw Vimes. "What the... who in the hell's is _this_, Watts?"

"Why, this is the great Commander Vimes that the kid keeps talking about, Sharkey. Don't tell me you didn't recognize him?"

Sharkey looked Vimes up and down. "That's him?" he said. He looked genuinely surprised. From the way Carrot had been talking he'd been expecting a regular hero, all broad shoulders and broadsword, not the wiry man he saw before him now. "Well, what in god's names is he doing here, Watts? Are you out of your _mind_?"

"He's come to get the kid, Sharkey. The kid's all right, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he's, uh..." Sharkey glanced back into the cellar. "He's fine, Watts, just fine..."

Vimes suddenly shoved Sharkey aside, and looked down into the cellar.

And fear gripped his heart like a vice.

Carrot was slumped pitifully against the wall; his naked and bleeding body barely covered by the rough blanket that had been thrown over him. He was bound hand and foot. And he wasn't moving.

_"What have you done to him, you bastards?_" Vimes screamed. With his anger suddenly overtaking his fear, he turned and charged into Watts, knocking him flying against the wall. His hands went automatically for Watts' throat and he began squeezing as hard as he could. _"Why, you sick_—"

The one-shot in Watts' hand went off, sending the deadly missile tearing through Vimes' thigh. Vimes cried out in pain and spun away, completely losing his grip on Watts. He fell to the floor clutching at his leg.

"You'll regret that, Vimes," Watts snarled, throwing the spent weapon aside.

Vimes looked up just in time to see Watts charging at him. He grabbed Watts' neck, and using Watts' forward momentum, slammed him hard against the wall.

Watts fell; momentarily stunned.

Vimes scrambled to his feet, and drew back his leg for a well-aimed kick.

It never landed.

Sharkey was behind him in a flash, grabbing him in a vice-like grip. He picked Vimes up easily and spun him around, slamming him viciously into the wall.

There was a sickening _thud_ as Vimes' head hit the brickwork. A trickle of blood ran from his hairline and into his eyes. Vimes blinked, dazedly, still trying to see where Watts was.

Watts was still getting up. But he moved in quickly when he saw Vimes at a disadvantage, landing a quick succession of hard blows to Vimes' stomach.

Vimes gasped and fell to his knees.

Sharkey let go, obviously convinced Vimes wasn't going anywhere now.

But Watts closed in again. "Never give a man like that a chance to get up, Sharkey," he said, shaking his head. His boot caught Vimes squarely in the ribs; Sharkey winced when he heard the crack.

"Now, for god's sakes get some cuffs on him," Watts growled. "The bastard's dangerous."

Sharkey scurried into the other room and returned with a set of cuffs. He threw them across to Watts, who wasted no time in clamping them on Vimes' wrists.

"Now get him into the cellar," said Watts. "Before he can do any more harm."

Sharkey heaved Vimes up and threw him bodily into the cellar. Vimes crashed headlong down the stone steps, quite unable to break his fall. He landed painfully in a heap at the bottom.

Watts followed him down. "It seems you were right about him being trouble, Sharkey," he said, walking straight past Vimes. "Perhaps it's just as well I've been expecting him." He walked across to a pile of crates, selecting one he deemed suitable with his boot. He kicked it across the room to where Vimes was lying. He looked up at the ceiling and nudged the crate carefully into what was obviously a predetermined position. "Okay," he said. "Get him up on there."

Sharkey hauled Vimes up in a bear-like grip and stood him on the crate.

"Good," said Watts. "But don't let him go just yet..." He reached above Vimes' head and pulled something down. "You know, I really ought to kill you, Vimes," he said. "But seeing as you've given us the money, I'm going to give you a sporting chance."

Vimes blinked and looked up, trying desperately to see what Watts was doing. He realized too late he was standing directly beneath a noose.

Watts dropped it over Vimes' head and pulled it tight. He grabbed the other end and took in the slack, before wrapping it, figure of eight fashion, around a metal mooring on the wall. He looked Vimes directly in the eye. "I'm not sure how much longer the kid's got, Vimes," he said. "But I reckon I've kept my end of the bargain. Whether he lives or dies now is up to _you_." He grabbed Vimes' shirt and tore it open before yanking it down hard over his elbows, immobilizing his arms. Then he stood back. "C'mon, Sharkey," he said. "It's time we left."

Sharkey released his grip on Vimes.

Suddenly it became apparent why Watts had chosen that particular crate. It was rotten. Vimes knew it would be only a matter of time before it collapsed completely under his weight.

The trapdoor slammed, and the bolt shot across.

The crate began creaking, ominously...

And suddenly Vimes' world became very dark.

-o0o-


	10. Chapter 10

**Missing!**

**Chapter 10**

Angua and Noakes raced down Lower Broadway. They slowed down slightly as they approached the Brass Bridge and the Patrician's Palace came into view.

"What's gotten into Vimes lately, do you think?" said Angua, as they crossed over. "I mean it's so unlike him to do anything reckless."

"We don't know as he has yet," said Noakes.

"But you must have noticed a change in him?" said Angua. "I mean all this business with Carrot, it seems to have, I don't know, gotten to him somehow."

"In what way?"

"Oh, come on, Noakes! He's been practically out of his mind since Carrot went missing."

Noakes carried on walking. "The commander's always been protective of Carrot as far as I can see, sergeant," he said noncommittally. "Perhaps you'd rather he didn't care?"

"No, of course not. But it's almost as if he's taking this whole thing personally; you know, as if someone's trying to get to him, through Carrot."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, why did the kidnappers ask Vimes for the money? Have you ever thought about that?"

"That's simple. They're not from around here; they mistook Carrot for the commander's son."

"Okay," said Angua. "But they knew Vimes was rich. How did they know that if they're not from around here?"

Noakes shrugged. "Anyone could have told them that."

"But anyone could have told them Carrot wasn't Vimes' son."

Noakes slowed to a halt and turned to look at her.

"Well, _couldn't_ they?" Angua insisted.

"Assuming they'd _asked_, yes. What are you actually getting at, sergeant?"

"Well, nothing, really... I just wonder what you think, that's all."

"What _I _think isn't important, sergeant," Noakes sighed. "And as much as I'd like to stand here and speculate with you, I'm afraid _time_ is a luxury we don't have."

He walked off and entered the Palace grounds alone.

"This is where I left him," he said, as he heard Angua come up behind him again. "His trail would still be quite strong here, I should think."

"It is," said Angua, pulling a face. "Bit upset, was he?" She didn't wait for an answer, but instead looked around for a convenient place to change.

Noakes looked away courteously, and then walked over to the Palace steps. He stopped when he saw Vimes' armour and weapon lying half-hidden by the side of them.

"Angua...?" he called out over his shoulder. "I think you should come and see this..."

-o0o-

Vimes stood perfectly still.

He thought very carefully about his next move. As much as he complained about the ugly world in which he lived, he had no desire to speed his passage into the next one by weakening the crate with unnecessary movements.

A trickle of blood ran into his eyes, daring him to blink.

Unsurprisingly, his first thoughts were for Carrot. He turned his head to one side, trying to see where he was. He could just make him out in the gloom; he hadn't moved or changed positions since he'd seen him first.

"C-Carrot?" he whispered. "A-are you all right, lad?"

No reply.

Vimes closed his eyes, trying to remember how long it had been since he'd left the Oblong Office. Everything had happened so fast that time no longer seemed to have any real meaning. He only remembered stopping twice along the way, and suddenly he hated himself for thinking of himself before Carrot. Realizing that, for the first time since all this had happened, he was now facing the very real possibility of losing him.

He tried to imagine his life without Carrot.

He couldn't.

"_Oh, gods, Carrot..._" he choked. "_Please talk to me..._"

Suddenly the crate moved, and he froze.

Vimes blinked, numbly.

Mercifully, the crate held firm.

Focus...

He had to focus.

He tried his arms against the restraints of his shirt; he couldn't move them. He reached up to his neck, attempting to relieve the pressure on his throat by working his fingers under the rope. They barely reached.

The crate creaked loudly.

Vimes held his breath for a few anxious moments and then clawed again at the rope. This time he managed to get a finger from each hand beneath it. For now, at least, it allowed him a small space in which to breathe.

He turned his head carefully to the other side, trying to see where Watts had attached the rope to the wall. He could just make it out. The metal mooring was four, maybe four and a half feet away. Vimes balanced carefully on his good leg and reached out with the other, trying to judge the distance. It looked tantalizingly close.

But it was further than he'd thought.

He altered his footing and inched a little nearer. But the crate suddenly shifted and his heart skipped a beat as his foot sank into the rotten wood. The noose tightened. He cried out as he was forced to take his weight on his injured leg to avoid throttling himself. He scrabbled frantically for a firmer footing, unable to see his feet. He eventually hit a corner of the crate, relieved to find the wood was still relatively sound.

But time was running out.

Vimes took a moment to steady himself, and then returned his attention to the mooring. If his time were up, he was damned if he was going to spend his last few moments waiting for the crate to collapse; he'd try something to save them both, even if it meant dying in the attempt.

He edged out onto the corner of the crate as far as he dare. Then, making sure his fingers were safely between the rope and his throat, took a deep breath and kicked out at the mooring on the wall.

The tip of his boot just caught it.

He inched a little nearer; ever mindful of his precarious footing, and tried it again.

More of his boot caught it this time, and he felt it give slightly. But the crate was creaking loudly and he was aware that he was sinking lower. He willed it to stay firm for just a few moments longer.

He tried it once more, kicking out as hard as he could. For his efforts, the brickwork crumbled and a few pieces of mortar fell away.

But the mooring held fast.

And in his desperation, he realized he'd leaned out too far. He teetered awkwardly, already knowing he'd made a fateful mistake.

The crate collapsed.

And suddenly, there was nothing beneath him.

-o0o-

Angua threw back her head and howled.

Noakes started. "What is it?" he said, running back towards her. "Is it the commander?"

Angua growled.

Noakes had no idea what her barks and growls meant, but it hardly mattered, because in a flash she was gone again, bounding headlong through the centre of the Shades.

Noakes gave chase.

Angua slowed down as they approached the docks, sniffing along the ground, letting out another low growl.

"He's been here?" Noakes hazarded.

Angua barked.

Although her language was a mystery to him, there was no doubt in Noakes' mind how much the commander trusted her. So when she charged off again, heading towards a long wall of crates, he did no less than Vimes would have expected of him; he followed her faithfully, trying his best to keep up.

-o0o-

Vimes was mildly relieved when his entire life failed to flash before him as he swung from the rope. There were parts of it he'd rather forget.

Nothing but shadows filled his vision now as the rope slowly crushed his windpipe.

In a last-ditch effort to save himself, he made another desperate attempt to reach the mooring on the wall. But he had nowhere near enough momentum to reach it now. He kicked out at it wildly; refusing to give up until the last of his life was choked out of him.

He thought of Carrot, and Sybil...

And suddenly he was kicking out, not at the mooring, but at the downright unfairness of it all; at his inability to save Carrot; at the pain he knew he'd cause his wife when she learned she was a widow; and at a million and one other things he considered should never be. He kicked out in frustration at the whole, stinking world in general.

But most of all, he kicked out in anger at his own damned incompetence.

He knew it was a useless gesture, but he did it anyway.

And, quite unexpectedly, his anger paid off...

With a protesting screech, the weakened mooring suddenly gave way, sending the metal fixture spinning across the room.

Vimes landed heavily on his back. Pain shot through his cracked rib. He clawed at the rope around his neck, trying to remove it, struggling to breath through his ravaged windpipe.

Before he could get his breath back, he was aware of movement in the room above him. It was followed by the scrape of metal as the trapdoor opened up.

Light spilled into the cellar.

"_Angua_!" he rasped.

Watts snorted.

"Expecting company, Vimes?" he said, as he came down the stone steps. He glanced around, taking in the scene around him. "Well, I'm impressed, Vimes. But I'm beginning to tire of your little games, I'm afraid." He came across the room and stared down at Vimes angrily. "Where's the rest of the money?" he said.

-o0o-


	11. Chapter 11

**Missing!**

**Chapter 11**

Vimes tried to speak, but his eyes were already glazing over.

"Th-the money's in the..." he began.

He never finished the sentence.

He let out an audible sigh and closed his eyes. His hands fell away from his throat.

"Oh, no, you don't!" cried Watts, rushing at him suddenly and hauling him up by the front of his shirt; he shook him furiously. "Don't you dare peg out on me yet!" he screamed. "Tell me where the rest of the money is first!"

Vimes' head suddenly came down hard on the bridge of Watts' nose. "_It's still in the bank, you bastard_!" he snarled.

Watts' nose exploded into a bloody mess. He fell away, howling in pain.

Vimes swung out with his leg, taking Watts' feet out from under him. And then he was on him, using his handcuffed wrists to pin Watts by the throat. Suddenly the darkness that had been plaguing his vision was replaced, by pure, red, animal rage.

Upstairs in the other room, Sharkey was getting edgy. He'd been told to wait by the door, but he could hear the sounds of a scuffle. He gripped the moneybag indecisively. He hadn't wanted to come back; $50,000 was more than enough money as far as he was concerned. He knew coming back was only inviting trouble...

He edged his way cautiously into the other room, and risked a quick glance into the cellar.

Vimes had Watts pinned to the floor.

It was all the incentive Sharkey needed to leave. He headed straight for the door.

He hefted his crossbow as he approached, the constant scratching of the rats outside beginning to grate. If he never saw another one again it would be too soon. He unlocked the door and swung it wide open...

Angua leapt.

There was a flash of gold as a magnificent werewolf hit Sharkey full in the chest. He stumbled backwards, hitting his head on the flagstones as he fell. He squeezed the trigger of the crossbow instinctively, sending the bolt whistling past Angua's ear. It hit the far wall and clattered noisily to the ground.

Angua crouched, ready to strike again, but Sharkey made no move to get up. She glanced around quickly, assessing the room for further dangers. When none presented itself, she headed for the next doorway.

Noakes appeared suddenly from the alleyway, having finally caught up with her. He glanced quickly at the recumbent Sharkey and then followed Angua.

But the familiar creak of a crossbow string being drawn suddenly made him turn...

Sharkey was reloading and was aiming straight at Angua; something about the way the tip of the bolt glinted oddly in the light suddenly filled Noakes with fear.

"_Nooo..._!" he cried.

He threw himself in the doorway, blocking Sharkey's line of fire.

Sharkey fired, regardless.

Noakes staggered backwards as the bolt sank deep into his shoulder. He collided with Angua, throwing her forwards, inadvertently plunging them both into the cellar...

Vimes blinked through a sea of red mist as two bodies suddenly bowled into him. He fell sideways, completely disoriented, confused as to why he'd lost his stranglehold on Watts.

Watts had no such concerns; he simply couldn't believe his luck. Seizing his chance, he scrambled to his feet, showing no concern for the fallen Noakes as he jumped over him and legged it quickly up the stairs.

"_Don't let him get away_!" Vimes yelled.

But Angua didn't need telling; she was already on his tail. She flew out of the trapdoor just in time to see Watts disappear out into the alley. But instead of following, she stopped; there was a new threat now, requiring her immediate attention. Sharkey had reloaded, and now he had the determined look of a man with nothing left to lose. Angua switched targets automatically and she wasn't kind; she went straight for the throat.

Suddenly there was nothing, except the awful, nauseating smell of copper...

Down in the cellar, Noakes had managed to drag himself over to the wall, and was propped against it, trying to stem the flow of blood from his shoulder. Vimes made a move towards him, but Noakes shook his head, indicating that he see to Carrot first. "I-I'll be all right," he said, smiling reassuringly.

But Noakes' laboured breathing told Vimes otherwise; he glanced agonizingly at Carrot, and then back again at Noakes.

"Go to him..." said Noakes quietly, managing to convey with a look at least _one_ very important reason why he should.

Vimes crawled over to where Carrot was lying; he was still in his original position, slumped against the wall with his head on his chest.

"C-Carrot?" said Vimes softly, lifting his chin with a trembling hand. "C-can you hear me?" Carrot was deathly pale and his skin was cold to the touch; Vimes felt sure he had gone. But his eyelids flickered slightly, and there was a faint glimmer of recognition. It was followed by a heartbreaking attempt at a smile.

"S-Sam...?" a small voice said.

Vimes' face creased up. "Oh, Carrot... I thought I'd lost you." He pressed his forehead to Carrot's and closed his eyes, holding Carrot's head tenderly as he struggled to hold on to what remained of his composure.

Noakes suddenly groaned, causing Vimes to look up.

Angua had appeared at top of the steps, wearing an old sack from upstairs. "I'm sorry, sir," she said, as she came down the stone steps. "I managed to get one of them, but the other one escaped, I'm afraid."

Vimes blinked, mistily. "It-it doesn't matter, Angua," he said, turning his head quickly to face Carrot. "We have more important things to worry about now."

Angua came across the room and knelt down beside him. "May I?" she said, gently removing Vimes' hand from Carrot's cheek.

"Oh, I think the commander's quite capable of looking after Captain Carrot for the time being, sergeant," said a voice they both recognized. "Perhaps you'd be kind enough to help Igor in with his things?"

Vimes looked up.

"_My lord_!" he exclaimed. "_W-what are you doing here_?"

Vetinari came down the stone steps, followed closely by Igor.

He spoke quietly as he knelt down beside Vimes. "You have Captain Noakes to thank for my involvement, commander," he said, motioning for Igor to attend to Carrot. Vetinari took Vimes' arm and gently prised him away, allowing Igor room to work. "He came to see me after suspecting your intentions, asking what was written on the note. You know, you seem to be collecting guardian angels at an alarming rate, Sir Samuel, the loyalty of your men never ceases to amaze me."

Igor assessed Carrot quickly. "There'th been quite a lot of blood loth, thur," he said. "But he'th definitely a strong one, so I think he'll be okay."

"A-are you sure?" said Vimes. "H-he hasn't moved for ages."

Igor nodded, knowingly. "Thensible thing to do, thur," he said. "Under the circumstanceth. It preventh further blood loth. Don't worry, thur, we'll soon have him on the mend. I just need to get my thingth."

"Well, see to Noakes as soon as you've finished," said Vimes. "He needs attention too."

"And you too, by the look of it, Sir Samuel," said Vetinari, looking him over. "You seem to have had quite a run-in with these people."

"For what good it did," said Vimes wearily. "One of them escaped, and the devil's still out there somewhere."

"Yes, but you needn't worry yourself," said Vetinari. "He won't be bothering anyone anymore."

"He won't?"

"I've had one of my men take care of him from the rooftops, Sir Samuel."

"He's dead, you mean," said Vimes flatly.

"It's the customary sentence for murder, I believe."

"But he hasn't killed anyone! Carrot's still alive!"

"Yes, I'm pleased to see that he is," said Vetinari, managing a hint of a smile. It faded, quickly. "But unfortunately, the deadline expired quite some time ago. Had it not, of course, then perhaps this devil, as you so aptly named him, may have been spared his fate."

Vimes didn't know why he felt disgusted; ten minutes ago, he'd have quite happily killed Watts with his bare hands. But that was different; they'd been fighting and he'd been defending himself. Assassination was another thing entirely. It was deliberate, and cold-blooded.

Vimes glanced tiredly around the room as the events of the day finally caught up with him. He looked at Carrot, where Igor had now begun treating him, and then to Noakes; slumped against the wall with a red stain spreading slowly across his chest.

And then at himself.

Any one of them could be dead right now; arguing with Vetinari over moral issues hardly seemed worth the effort.

He bowed his head.

"It's over, Sir Samuel," said Vetinari, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Vimes was aware of a gentle squeeze as Vetinari's hand lingered slightly longer than was necessary...

-o0o-

Later that week, back at the Watch House, things were almost back to normal.

Chaos reigned once more in the front office, and Vimes was back behind his desk, marvelling at the speed at which paperwork accumulated when no one was looking.

The bruising on his face had almost faded now, but the rope burns around his neck were still quite evident. His injured leg was sticking out at an awkward angle, having been strapped up so tightly he could hardly bend it; he swore every time Fred tripped over it.

Angua was sitting opposite, watching him.

"I expect you'll be glad to have Carrot back won't you, sir?" she said, as the pile of papers she'd been watching finally toppled and fell to the floor.

"Yes, I will, Angua," said Vimes, staring forlornly at his desk. He sighed. "I do miss him when he's not here."

"Well, you won't have to wait much longer, sir," said Angua. "The doctor thinks he'll be up and around by the end of the week. Carrot has the most amazing constitution he's ever seen, apparently."

"Yes, and a good thing, too," said Vimes. "I'm convinced it's the only thing that saved him."

"Well, I'd have to disagree with you there, sir," said Angua. "I believe _you _played the biggest part in doing that."

"I didn't do anything, Angua. All Carrot had to do was hang on."

"And he did so because of you, sir... The reason I know that is because he's hardly stopped talking about you since he got his strength back; he knew you wouldn't let him down." She studied Vimes' battered face for a moment. "He thinks an awful lot of you, sir," she said. "Surely you must know that?"

Vimes shuffled the papers on his desk, self-consciously. "Well, I think a lot of Carrot, Angua. As I do all my men."

"Yes, sir, I know you do," said Angua, leaning back in her chair. "But, you know, sometimes I get the feeling you two share something that I'm not a party to; like Carrot is special to you somehow."

Vimes had a sudden urge to reach for the bottom drawer of his desk; a pointless exercise, he knew.

"Special?" he said. "In what way?"

"Well, like you have a soft spot for him, or something."

"I have a soft spot for all my men, Angua. Even our own dear Corporal Nobbs."

"You have a soft spot for _Nobby_, sir?"

"Yes, it's called a swamp."

Angua grinned. "I was being serious, sir."

"Well, seeing as you've mentioned it, Angua," said Vimes, suspecting where this was heading. "I won't pretend that Carrot doesn't have a special place in my heart. He's certainly changed things around here since he joined the Watch, and I can't deny the enormous impact he's had on my life." _In more ways than one_, he thought. "So, yes, I suppose you could say I have a soft spot for him. In fact, he's almost like a son to me now."

Angua smiled. "I'd rather guessed as much, sir," she said, reaching for her helmet. "Well, it makes sense, I suppose," she said, getting up. "He's always looked up to you, figuratively speaking, so I can see how it works." She shook her head as she headed for the door. "I might have guessed it was a 'man' thing," she said resignedly.

Vimes followed and held the door open for her. "Yes, but that hardly makes us rivals, does it?"

Angua smiled, and turned to face him. "I'll give him your regards, sir," she said. "I'm off to see him again later."

"Before you go, Angua..." said Vimes thoughtfully. "Just how much do you know about Captain Noakes?"

"James? Not an awful lot, sir. He keeps himself to himself pretty much, sir. Why?"

"Well, it suddenly struck me that I hardly know the man. And I was hoping to rectify that if I could." Vimes gestured towards his desk. "It's going to take me forever to find his file among that little lot, so I was just wondering..."

Angua smiled. "What did you want to know, sir?"

"Well, is he married? Is there a Mrs. Noakes?"

"No, sir. But he does live with someone; they've been together years, apparently."

"Do you know where they live?"

"Short Street, I believe, sir. Why?"

"Well, I was thinking of going round there this afternoon, just to put her mind at rest over Noakes' position. He's still in pretty bad shape, and I'd hate to think of her worrying about financial arrangements on top of everything else. I feel it's the least I can do after everything Noakes has done for me."

Angua studied his face for a moment. "Well, that's entirely up to you, sir," she said, a little uncertainly. "But, well... good luck anyway."

"You think that's a bad idea?"

"No, sir, I think it's a good idea. It's just that, well... it's not a 'her', sir, it's a 'him'."

"Hmm?"

"Didn't you know, sir?" said Angua, carefully avoiding his gaze. "Noakes lives with a man..."

-o0o-

The End.


End file.
